


Tales of Fake AH and Los Santos

by collidewithskies



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Blood, Blood and Torture, Fake AH Crew, Gangs, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:46:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8418070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collidewithskies/pseuds/collidewithskies
Summary: A collection of oneshots of the boys and their adventures.





	

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking at the masked man, Gavin can't help but wonder if he's smiling. He wonders if the Vagabond can even smile. Ryan can. Gavin’s seen the joy on his face, the uncontained laughter whenever Gavin does something stupid, which is often enough. No, Gavin concludes. No, he doesn't think the Vagabond can smile.

The Vagabond, a ruthless killer who wore a black skull mask, was not one you would want to find yourself at odds with. Gavin knew this, of course, Gavin knew this. So why did the young brit find himself flinging words like sticks of dynamite that threatened to ignite every time they hit the target? They're standing in the middle of a train tunnel, and their voices bounce off the walls each time they speak. If Gavin is being honest, it makes him dizzy. The lad should've realized something like this was going to happen. Rarely can Ryan control when he becomes the Vagabond. Gavin should've prepared for something like this. He knows it. But Gavin didn't and he hates himself for it.

If you stare into the masked face, you can't see the face underneath. It's a good thing Gavin thinks, he’s fully aware of the odd face paint that the killer used. Although most of the other man's hair is shoved into a ponytail that escapes out the back of the mask, some strands are defiant, those stick to the sides of the mask from sweat. The lad can also see the brilliant blue eyes poking out from the dark mask. Without them, Gavin doubts he'd recognize Ryan. It’s the money. It’s the stress. It's the dozens of people dead. It's the blood that stains both men's clothes. Ryan isn't Ryan right now.

“There doesn't have to be two of us,” Ryan says for the third time. Gavin had thought the first was a joke. The second, he threw insults the way Ryan can throw knives. Digging into the target, looking for the best place to wound. There’s something different in his tone this time, though. Like he's done with the game's, done with playing with his food. Gavin sees Ryan's hand twitch towards the gun strapped to his back. Gavin's fingers mirror. The American is standing closer to where they entered the tunnel. Originally, Gavin was leading them. He’s still in front now, but he has no intention of turning his back to the killer. The duffle bag full of money strapped to his back feels heavier now. The straps digging uncomfortably into his collar. The other man is wearing one too, it’s just as stuffed with money as his is. Gavin wonders if this money is going to change into blood money and if Ryan could live with himself afterward. No, he knows, Ryan couldn’t. The man cares for the crew, even though he is a mastermind criminal. The crew is family and Ryan knows it, that Gavin is positive of. They’ve been fighting together for years now. Knew everybody's weakness’ and strengths. Gavin can’t believe he never even tried to learn what to do in this situation. The lad feels like he’s let Ryan down.

“You’re such a dickwad.” Gavin spits out, his harsh whisper gets thrown against the tunnel walls and ricochets back to them. “You think you can just shoot me, take the money and leave? Sorry Rye, I’m not going to go down without a fight.” Gavin says the nickname to hurt the other man, maybe snap him out of it. It does nothing. Gavin needs to stop egging him on. He knows it. It’s just increasing the chances of him getting shot. But he's so angry. Everything was going perfectly. Gavin and Ryan got in and out with all of the money and more. Ray and Michael providing a distraction, Geoff and Jack providing air support and later extraction. The two ground groups had split up to lose the cops before going to the chopper. Gavin wants to scream, he doesn't know what or at who but he just needs to. Gavin never minded being on a team with Ryan. Actually, he almost prefers it. Ryan is incredibly in battle. So much so that the younger man would name him the best fighter of the group, with Michael close behind him. Ray’s skill with snipers and arrows were unmatched, of course. Gavin was the one they went to if they needed a bang. He had a proficiency in using sticky bombs, RPJ, mines, anything of that sort. Not to mention that he can hack into any database or computer he needs to. The best hacker in the country, Geoff had called him one time, albeit drunkenly. Geoff’s planning, disguise and ability to supply the crew with what they need, makes him vital (and of course, him being the kingpin). Then there's Jack, of course, who can fly any air vehicle like it's nobodies business and can patch you up as good as new. But there's just the pure rage that team Crazy Mad has that no one else gets close to.

Ryan just laughs maniacally in response. It scares Gavin slightly. He knows he's dealing with this whole situation the wrong way. Gavin should be trying to calm him down, reminding him of who he really is but he can't. The lad wishes one of the gents were here. They were the best at dealing with the man. Geoff knew what he was getting into when he hired the killer, knew how to bring him back better than anybody else. Jack was reasonable, the redhead could make Ryan come back by being logical, finding the trigger and solving it. Even the other lads knew what to do better than he did. Ray used quiet words and jokes that he knew Ryan loved. He would talk and talk until the Vagabond left. Michael would fight him, in the way only Michael could. Gavin, Gavin didn't know what the bloody hell to do. Never did. He'd never been thrown into a one on one situation with the Vagabond before either.

“You useless anus! Stop laughing! It’s bloody heists like this that make me want to try cocaine. We were so close to a perfect job before you screwed it all up! You're bang out of order.” Gavin can't stop the words flying out of his mouth, he knows immediately that it’s a mistake. The harsh words hadn’t been helping in the first place but Gavin can see the way Ryan’s body tenses up. Gavin's reflexes are quick but so are the Vagabond’s. They're both pointing guns at each other now. The pistol in Gavin’s hands feels light, compared to his usual RPG. The other man is holding an assault rifle. The American's hands are as still as if he were cutting food and not pointing a gun at one of his closest friends. Gavin’s shake ever so slightly. It’s different when you're aiming a gun at someone you love. Ryan’s (Vagabond’s) fingers, however, are at home here, with a gun pointed at someone. It doesn't matter who, Gavin knows. The Vagabond lusts for death. The thought of bloodshed calms him.

It’s silent for a moment. The black skull just staring at him, rifle raised. He wishes that Ryan would break through before something bad goes down. It doesn't happen, though. Gavin feels those blue eyes chilling his body down to the bone. Who knows how this situation is going to turn out. Either of them could die. Both of them even. Killing Ryan is something Gavin cannot do. Right here and now, Gavin almost wishes he could put a bullet into the other man, or himself so Ryan doesn't have to live with his actions. But he can't do either. Both lives meaning too much to him. They stand there, facing each other. Looking at the masked man, Gavin can't help but wonder if he's smiling. He wonders if the Vagabond can even smile. Ryan can. Gavin’s seen the joy on his face, the uncontained laughter whenever Gavin does something stupid, which is often enough. No, Gavin concludes. No, he doesn't think the Vagabond can smile.

Ryan's (Vagabond's) voice breaks the silence. There's a lilt to his voice and it frightens Gavin. “Don't worry,” he says, but Gavin is worrying, immensely so, “I’ll make it as painless as I can,” Ryan says before his deep, demented laugh breaks through again. It's different than the normal deep, rumbling and kind one. The one that Gavin loves because he can see the way Ryan's body moves with it, like a building and an earthquake. The laugh is the Vagabond’s mistake, Gavin uses the moment to shoot Ryan. Gavin knows this is either going to snap Ryan out of it or the Vagabond is going to get really bloody pissed. The bullet doesn't hit anywhere serious, it lodges itself into Ryan’s right shoulder and it has one of the intended effects. The assault rifle clatters to the ground. Gavin hears the other members of Fake AH collectively inhale, fearing the worst. The Brit had honestly forgotten about the earpiece connecting him the others. Gavin doesn't say a word, though, not sure if it's Ryan standing across from him. The American brings his left hand to the wound. The mask tilts down as his eyes glance at the fresh blood on his fingers. It must be a bad sign, Gavin thinks and in turn nervously fidgets with his gun, trying to make sure his grip is good. The lad’s finger is close to the trigger, ready to shot Ryan in the leg or some other nonlethal spot. The mask moves up to presumably look at Gavin.

“Gavin?” The voice leaving the mask is broken, soft. Ryan. It's Ryan. The lad doesn't think he's felt this relieved for a long time. Gavin opens his mouth to say something back but he can't. Can't find the words. Ryan takes off the mask with his right hand and the smeared face paint comes into view. The red around his forehead has begun to mix with the black around his eyes. The white is nearly entirely absent from his face. The red reminds Gavin of the blood seeping out of Ryan's shoulder. The gent is in turmoil, Gavin can see it. Can see the way his eyes fill with tears that aren't shed because goddammit, Ryan doesn't want to seem weak. Gavin doesn't think it would be weak to cry right now, he feels close himself. But he still can't say anything. Doesn't know what would be the right words. If there are any right words. The intercom is still dead silent. They stand there, just looking at each other. The Brit’s gun still raised in apprehension.

It’s only when the blood from Ryan’s wound starts escaping out over his hand does Gavin’s throat let up. “I’m sorry.” It seems fitting that the first thing he says after he shoots his best friend is that he's sorry. And he really is. There's nothing he wants more than to have everything go down a different way. Voices immediately start up again in his ear as soon as he speaks. Michael’s, _“Jesus Christ boi, don't ever do that again.”_ Geoff’s, _“you owe me some vodka, you stupid fucker.”_ Ray’s quiet, _“asshole.”_ And Jack’s calm, _“what happened?”_

“It’s Ryan, I,” he can't get the words out. It doesn't feel right to say _‘I Shot Ryan.’_ It's in that moment that Gavin realizes what he's done. “Oh god, I can't believe - no, no, no.” He can't make a complete sentence. He just fucking shot Ryan. The killer who Gavin thought hated him at first, who the Brit was terrified of. Ryan, the man who always somehow knows what you need, even if you don't. Ryan had been the one to get them close. The American had cornered Gavin after a job and asked him out for drinks. Gavin hadn't realized that drinks meant that he was going to get plastered and Ryan was going to watch, just sipping a Diet Coke. Now, Gavin looks at Ryan's face again. It still bewilders him, how Ryan can kill so many people but not drown out their faces in alcohol, drown out their lives and their families.The killing is addicting but still guilt causing. Sometimes Gavin thinks it's why alcohol is the only thing Geoff drinks. Why any of them drink in the first place. Expect Ryan and Ray of course. The lad would never admit that he's jealous. The blue eyes seem dimmer now, less in focus. It’s terrifying. Gavin drops the pistol onto the dirt and vomits violently. It reminds him of his first kill, expect this time he could have killed his best friend. Could still kill his best friend.

“Gavin shot me,” Ryan says for him. Voice quiet. So unlike the Vagabond that stood their moments earlier. Gavin is glad he's gone. “Nothing serious, bullets still in my shoulder. I'll need your steady hands to get it out, Jack.” There's a pit in Gavin's stomach that makes him question his shot. Even hearing Ryan say it isn't lethal doesn't calm down the lad.

“Shit, you think you two can make it to the extraction point? Or do we need to send Michael and Ray to help?” Jack’s voice takes on the conversation, steady and calm. Gavin can hear Geoff cursing quietly and feels grateful they have the redhead with them.

“ETA is ten minutes. If Gavin is ok with traveling with me then I say we can make it.” Ryan carries on. His voice is steady too but it shouldn't be. Not with a bullet stuck in his shoulder and the threat of the Vagabond still looming overhead. Gavin breaks then while hunching over to vomit again. He needs to remain calm until he gets Ryan to safety but he can't breathe. The first tears come out silently, but then they're gushing out like a waterfall. Wracking his body violently and he collapses fully to the ground. Gavin doesn't know what's wrong with him.

Gavin feels a hand on his shoulder and hears Ryan's voice break through his sobs, “Gav? It's okay, I'm okay and I'm me. Come on, keep it together until we reach the chopper. You can do that, I know you can.” The lad shakes his head swiftly upon hearing his calm voice. Gavin takes a deep breath, trying to calm down the waterfall coming from his eyes. He manages to control it to just a steady stream of tears that aren't gushing anymore before they're fully gone. Gavin gives Ryan a nod and the man just barely smiles at him. The Brit takes his pistol and the American’s assault rifle before standing up.

“You gonna be alright Gavin?” He hears Michael's voice in his ears. It's comforting. Mogar’s voice reminds him of the current job. Gavin knows the older lad won't let him out of his sight for a day or two after this. The Brit is thankful for the other man’s protectiveness. Michael had been protective of him ever since they met. Almost in the same way Geoff was. The lad has no idea why and doesn't feel the need to question the other men on it. Gavin quickly holsters his pistol and holds the rifle out to Ryan. The American is hesitant to take the rifle, his eyes dart to Gavin's face, making sure that Gavin is positive. The lad nods his head silently. Ryan takes the rifle and straps it to its spot on his back.

“Will be. Leaving now.” Gavin says as he walks over to Ryan, he isn't sure how the other man is still standing but his is. Ryan's not even teetering. The gent still has his hand over the wound and Gavin knows he's applying pressure there, the way that Jack had shown them to. The lad wraps the gents left arm around his shoulders, and they begin walking through the tunnel.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin says again because he feels like he needs too.

“You're fine Gavin. I'd rather me be hurt than you.” Of course, Ryan would say that. It doesn't make Gavin feel better, though. He never wanted to be the reason why the other man had a bullet in him. “You're overthinking this. You did the only thing you could in that situation.”

“The others don't put bullets in you,” Gavin says harshly. He bites the inside of his cheek afterward, to avoid saying anything worse.

“I almost did once.” Michael cuts in. Ray quietly adds, _“I think everyone's almost shot everyone here,”_ in the background.

“Michael says almost but the bullet did graze my arm.”

“You lived, didn't you? If I wanted that fucking bullet to find you, it would of.”

“Whatever you say, hotshot.” Gavin can't help but smile at the familiar bickering of the two. Maybe, just maybe, he is overthinking this. Ryan said he's going to fine, and he is. Gavin knows where to shoot someone so that they’ll live. The Brit takes a deep breath and collects his emotions. There's no need to be this upset about the situation. Ryan wouldn't lie to him.

Little conversations entertain them until they get to the chopper. Michael and Ray are already there, sitting half in the air vehicle with their legs dangling out. Jack’s driving per usual and Geoff is riding shotgun. Michael helps lift Ryan up onto the chopper and Gavin jumps in after him. Once they’re both on, Gavin helps Ryan to the back benches and clicks the safety back around the other man's waist. The lad takes the floor in front of him and removes Ryan's hand and glances at the wound. It looks painful, blood still flowing out. Gavin’s hands replace Ryan’s, and the other man's clench into fists.

“How soon can you get us to the penthouse, Jack?” Gavin asks, trying to hide his panic-stricken voice, as the blood quickly starts to pour over his hands. The gent inhales deeply as Gavin applies more and more pressure.

“Give me twenty minutes. There's a bottle of whiskey under the bench in the back. I need you to open it and pour it onto the wound. I don't have any peroxide right now so that will have to do.”

“That bottle cost me two hundred dollars, asshole!” Geoff yells as he turns around to glare at the boys in the back. They all know that Geoff doesn’t really care about the alcohol, the man has enough money to buy anything he wants. Gavin flashes him a grin before picking up the bottle. The gent doesn't turn back around, though, just watches with intent eyes. Gavin knows if he called him out on it, Geoff would make up some excuse. In reality, he's worried. So is Gavin. Geoff wants to see what's happening, to see if Gavin follows the instructions properly. It makes the Brit anxious. But the only thing he can do is take a deep breath, steady his hands and concentrate on the man in front of him.

Gavin glances at Ryan's face quickly, while he’s putting the safety belt across his waist. The man is obviously biting his cheek to hide the pain. Ryan's eyes are still watching him closely. The face paint is even more smeared now, and the Brit can see how pale Ryan has become. Gavin opens the bottle of whiskey and tells Ryan to open his mouth. He complies but Gavin thinks it was only to say no. Gavin can't be sure though because as soon as the man opened his mouth, Gavin was pouring whiskey in it. The gent grimaces as the whiskey enters his mouth before he swallows it immediately. It was how Ryan always drank alcohol, which was rare enough. Once he had a drink, he would down it immediately and then go about on his way. Something Gavin always thought was dumb. It only ensured that someone would hand you another one.

After Gavin makes Ryan do that two more times, he finally brings the alcohol to the wound. Gavin doesn't pour it yet though, Jack’s swinging the chopper around almost wildly as they try to shake off the cops one last time. The metal floor vibrates as the turrets continuously fire round after round. When Jack gets them away from the heat, they’ll have a clear flight back to the office. For now, Gavin hovers the precious liquid above the wound, which is already showing signs of festering. Ryan’s body tenses in anticipation of the pain, more than Gavin thought was humanly possible. The other man doesn’t let any other inclination that he’s in pain. The chopper suddenly serves to the right and Gavin gets thrown to the side, not expecting the swift change of course. Michael and Ray are safely tucked between the heavy turrets and the floor. Ryan is still secured by the belt. Before the Brit can get himself back near Ryan, the redhead quickly swings the chopper back to the other side and Gavin gets thrown the same way. The American’s hands reach out to keep him from colliding with the hard metal, but the pain in Ryan’s shoulder causes his grip to slip. And Gavin’s face gets up close and personal with the metal wall. Unfortunately, so does the bottle of whiskey, which smashes into pieces. Frantically, the lad tries to grip the pieces, as if it will repair it. His hands get torn by the jagged glass and the alcohol mixes with the blood. It stings. And he hates himself for it.

“Shit!” He breathes out before throwing himself at Ryan and securing himself between the other man's legs. Gavin's hands drip blood and the alcohol still stings, acting as a painful reminder. That the alcohol was supposed to be cleaning out Ryan’s wound — not his.

“Concentrate all fire on that chopper Ray! Get him off our tail!” Jack yells. Nobody has time to focus on the two in the back. Gavin looks up at Ryan as his hands find their way to the wound again. It's almost as if the world slows down, and the two men share a moment of hesitation, of fearfulness, before neither of them can afford it any longer and the world speeds back up. The others continue yelling at each other and the chopper swings about some more but the Americans legs secure Gavin, he no longer gets flung about. But the damage is already done, the alcohol is gone. His fingers are digging into Ryan, but he doesn't know what to do, his mind is scattered. Gavin had lost the one thing that would help the gent. Ryan seems to notice the lads hesitation, so he breathes out quietly, “I’ll be fine, just try to staunch the bleeding.” The Brit follows the orders given and rips most of his shirt off then quickly presses it against the bullet hole. There's so much blood everywhere. From Ryan's wound, from Gavin’s torn hands, and from the dozens of people they had previously killed. It causes Gavin's stomach to churn in worry. His hands shake as he presses the fabric down, and Gavin can’t tell if it's his blood he can see staining the cloth or if it's Ryan’s seeping through.

After what seems like hours, the floor of the chopper stops furiously vibrating and the intercom is finally silent. The screaming voices of the others finally die down in Gavin’s ear and they all take a moment to collect themselves. The chopper has taken a hell of a beating, the evidence being endless beeping and black smoke billowing out of the sides. Gavin spares a moment to look around. Michael and Ray are both breathing heavily, Jack’s stabilizing the chopper and Geoff is texting, presumably, his executive assistant, making sure that things are ready for their arrival. Gavin returns his gaze to Ryan. The American has almost sweated off all of the face paint. Ryan shoots him a small smile and Gavin lets his body relax a bit. There was a twinge of guilt that lodged itself into his stomach the moment he pulled the trigger and he can feel it worming around inside him now. Almost as if it will coming tearing out his body at any moment and consume him whole.

Only when Gavin notices that Ryan’s eyes are drooping shut does he break the silence between them, “ETA?” The lad's eyes are still boring into Ryan’s face. Jack seems to ignore the way the brits voice quivers when she answers, “just five more minutes and we’ll be landing on top of the office. I’ll stitch him up as soon as we get there.”

Gavin never thought that five minutes could take so long. But as he was looking at Ryan and as he felt the chopper swing forward, they couldn’t arrive at headquarters soon enough. Gavin glances at the wound, it’s definitely not just his blood he can see staining the fabric. His hands are shaking and no matter how hard he tries to make them stop, they only seem to speed up. The blood just keeps coming and coming and Gavin can’t stop it and nothing is working and Jack can’t get them back soon enough. Michael must notice his distress because he replaces Gavin’s hands over the wound. The brit gets bumped to the side and Mogar takes his place between Ryan’s legs.

“Trade you places until we get there. You aren’t going to be any help to Jack if you’re freaking the fuck out.” Jack hums her approval, Gavin shoots daggers into the back of her ginger hair, he just wants to help. Gavin just wants to be useful - to fix the situation he caused. “Ryan’ll be fine, stop over thinking this fucking ordeal. You two will be out robbing convenience stores soon enough.” Gavin collapses to the seat connected to the turret. His hands avoid touching the actual gun the rest of the ride there, however.

Jack roughly lands the chopper and seemingly instantly arrives in the back. Her skillful hands take control of the wound. Then she starts giving orders. Geoff is sent to make sure the medical room is ready for the trauma, Michael and Ray are tasked with helping Ryan walk there, and Gavin is sent to clean himself up and wait. Fucking wait. He’s furious but he doesn’t argue with the redhead - doesn’t need her attention to be on him when it needs to be on Ryan. So he leans against the wall and waits for the doors to open.

Over time, the others make their way to where Gavin is waiting. Geoff brings alcohol and shoves it into Gavin's hands before leaving again, presumably to drink himself into a stupor after he sorts out where he’s going to invest the money. The lad doesn't drink a drop of the liquor. Needing to be fully sober when he sees Ryan. After he knows everything is okay – Gavin will follow Geoff’s lead. Michael and Ray sit on the floor beside him. They're both playing Pokémon on their 3DS’. They had tried to convince Gavin to distract himself a little but they all knew Gavin wouldn't dare. Aaron Marquis, their on-call doctor that was hired to assist Jack, eventually comes around and bandages Gavin’s hands. ‘You nearly lost a finger the last time your dumb fucking cat bite you. I’m not about to take any blame for your hands becoming infected and something worse happening.’ He says as he’s pouring antiseptic in the lad's hands and bandaging them.

Two hours later, the double doors open and Jack’s bloodstained clothes can be seen. Immediately, Gavin tries to push past her and catch a glimpse of Ryan. Her gentle hands stop him. “He’s stable. He lost a lot of blood but otherwise, he’s okay.” She says, her voice calm and steady. “I gave him enough morphine to knock him out for until at least tomorrow. The bullet didn't cause any real damage. He’ll need to rest for the next couple weeks but he'll be fine. You can go and see him for a little while but make sure you go get some rest soon – otherwise, you'll collapse. And that won't help anybody” Gavin barely registers her words, just nods wildly. Spews out reassurances that he only wants to see that Ryan's okay with his own eyes. Jack’s hands reluctantly let go of him and almost instantly he appears at Ryan’s side. The facepaint is gone, his hair coming wildly out from the ponytail. The American's clothes are also gone, replaced with the thin hospital garb. Gavin hopes that Jack managed to save the leather jacket. God knows Ryan would kill her if it got destroyed. A small smiles spreads across the brits face as he imagines Ryan going berserk after finding out that the leather jacket that Gavin had embroidered himself was discarded. As if he Gavin couldn't just make a new one. ‘Memories!’ Ryan would probably scream with his hand around Jack’s thin neck.

Gavin’s fingers tentatively find their way to the gents bandaged shoulder. Bandaged hands touching a bandaged shoulder. His fingertips graze the top lightly. The terror that the hole underneath had caused is replaced by all-encompassing relief. The adrenaline from before is long gone and Gavin’s body suddenly feels heavier. The lad brings a chair as close to the bed as he can get and sits down. His arms lean on the bed in front of him and his head rests on them. Ryan’s face is in his vision and Gavin doesn't ever want that bastard's face to leave it. The American is still out cold from the drugs. Gavin stays like that god knows how long. But it's long enough where the sun has begun to rise again. The night of another grand heist has passed and the world continues on. People in the city will have begun to arise now, they'll watch the news and learn about more shenanigans from the Fake AH crew. But none of them will ever know the true events of what transpired there. They’ll never know the terror or the anger or the frustration. They’ll never know that there was one unplanned bullet that hit an unplanned target. They’ll never really think of the crew as people either. Always just some criminals who are constantly causing trouble and mayhem. Most of them would probably celebrate one of their deaths. One last criminal in a city where they flourish.

It’s only when Michael’s voice breaks the silence does the brit really realize that he's been there for hours. “You should go crash in your office, boi.” Michael’s voice is thick with authority, it sounds rested too. Gavin can imagine the lad standing behind him, arms crossed with a scowl on his face – like a father scolding a fractious child. Although the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, his eyes don’t stray from Ryan’s unconscious face. Gavin doesn’t even move to acknowledge Michael. “It’s been hours Gavin. He’ll be up tomorrow. You can visit him then when he’s up and you’re not about to pass out.” Gavin still doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t even breathe. “Jesus Christ, Gavin. I’ll fucking drag you out by the dick if you don’t go take care of yourself.” Even with as much hostility that is in Michael's voice, the lad gently helps Gavin up, albeit to much protesting from the younger lad, and walks him to Gavin’s office. Michael stays with him until he’s absolutely positive that Gavin is going to actually sleep. The brit almost instantly passes out once he’s laying down on the cot that resides in the corner of his office.

“Thank you Micoo, you're my bestest friend.” Gavin manages to sleepily whisper as the other man is walking out of his office.

“Just get some fucking rest, you idiot. You did good today and you deserve the rest.” Michael’s equally quiet voice sounds from the other side of the room. Gavin hums in response. The door closes and so does his eyes.

Before the tendrils of sleep wrap around him, Gavin remembers the way Ryan looked laying there in the makeshift hospital room. So vulnerable and so naked. It’s easy to almost forget how human each one of them actually is. They're on top of the world. Feared by most, adored by some, respected in some way by all.

There’s a fine line between greatness and madness, and maybe that’s the reason why the Vagabond lives inside Ryan.

There’s a difference between being evil and being a criminal. In seeking out death and destruction and seeking out the thrill of the ride - the fire. The fire that burns and twists and wraps itself around your heart and squeezes. It makes you feel alive. The fire that makes you release a feral scream, that speeds up your heartbeat, and that dilates your pupils. That leaves you with a feeling of bliss and excitement - and daresay it, accomplishment. They are on top of the world. The very mention of their crew makes people nervous, fidgety. They are feared. They are respected. It is a powerful feeling.

Maybe the crew is evil, but they aren’t purely so. Sure they kill regularly, burn buildings, rob banks, break people out of prison occasionally, and hack into every single database they can. But their chaos is planned - it’s controlled. They are in it for the money and for the chase. For the killing also, that’s a feeling that can never be replicated. The feeling of life leaving another person’s body, watching as their body slumps down, abandoned. It sends shivers down each of the crew members back. The adrenaline is addicting. It’s invigorating. But they have their limits. Their boundaries. Maybe they are evil, even if most of the time they don't see themselves as such. But they’ll never be ‘take over the world and kill everyone’ kind of evil. They’ll always just be ‘kill those who threaten our reign’ kind of evil; if nothing else. They are the true leaders of this city - even if the police are the only ones fully aware of it.

Ryan is a pure genius. If the Vagabond didn’t exist, and if Ryan didn’t have that lust for adventure, he could have been a world famous engineer. Maybe even the president. But Gavin knows that was never Ryan’s dream. Sometimes the lad doubts Ryan ever had a chance to dream about his future before the Vagabond stole it. The crew protects and helps Ryan. They help control the Vagabond when he decides to make his appearance. Geoff tries to prevent the resurfacing of the killer by giving Ryan an outlet for the pent-up rage, or whatever it is that triggers the Vagabond out. The eldest gent uses every resource he has in an attempt to sate the Vagabond. None of them know if that’s even possible. But if there’s a chance, even just a sliver, that it could actually help, well, it’s worth all the trouble.

Ryan is both the hero and the villain in his own story but it isn’t as tragically beautiful as it may sound.

Gavin breathes out a long and drawn out breath and by the time he inhales; the brit is out cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fully open to prompts of any kind! Just send me like an idea with a pairing, a line, or start a scene. Something, anything (:


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